The Valkyros
by adriata
Summary: All that the Avengers knew about the strange and powerful being named Synsara was that she was unfathomably ancient, and maybe even more insane than their least favorite resident psycho, Loki. How hard could it be to cooperate with an arrogant, wannabe goddess? Answer: impossible. OC!Dark!Valkyrie, Overpowered AU
1. Chapter 1

**This story is an OC centric Avengers fic. My OC is clearly overpowered, but it is going to take her a long, long time to fully develop and control her abilities, while simultaneously balancing character flaws I will introduce later in the story. There are going to be a lot of OCs in this fic. Also, this story is not completely Thor: Ragnarok compatible. I do intend to tie in some of those threads later, but until then, this is going to seem really out there. I'm playing pretty fast and loose with MCU cannon, so expect heavy divergence into AU territory as I do some world-building for the kind of mythology I'm working with.**

 **Feel free to review! Happy reading :)**

 **10,000 Years Ago. The Royal Palace. Asgard.**

"My King," Hela murmured, leaning from her seat on the throne's steps to speak. "I have received word that the Valkyros is here."

Odin's expression didn't change, but his daughter knew him well; he was discomfited. And things rarely ever made the King of Asgard feel uncomfortable.

"I assume she is here to present the new Valkyrie offspring," he said. It wasn't often that the Valkyros came to Asgard, especially to the palace itself. While the queen of the Valkyries enjoyed bloodshed more than anyone he had ever met, she had never offered her forces for aid in Asgard's conquest of the other realms. Sorna Sydras Valkyros had no interest in aiding men, and therefore she eschewed Asgard's male-only armies. Odin wasn't too bothered by her disdain. The Valkyries occupied the arid mountains to the farthest edge of the realm, as far from the throne as possible. They scarcely came into the city except for the greatest need.

Or for when the Valkyries had to introduce their rare and extraordinary offspring.

Odin tapped the golden arm of his throne in thought, his every move monitored by his daughter from the corner of her eye. It had been fifty years since the last Valkyrie daughter had been formally introduced to his court. It was a tradition Odin's forefathers had set, and one he intended to keep. Every Valkyrie daughter that lived past her sixth summer was brought to court by her mother and the Valkyros, so the Asgardian kings could meet the child. The common people and most royals believed the half-truth his forefathers had spun: since the Valkyries were so vaunted in lore and so little in number, it was a rightfully earned sign of respect for the kings to insist on meeting each new child. Odin, Hela, and Heimdall were the only ones alive that knew the entire truth: each Valkyrie girl was brought to court to be inspected by the king, so he could then decide if it was safe to let the girl-child live.

Only once had a child been deemed too powerful and dangerous to survive until adulthood. Hela had dispatched the creature at her father's order, sparing no thought for the child, thinking only of how best to protect Asgard from future threats. The death had been declared an accident; any child that young, even a Valkyrie with impervious skin, could be killed when a giant block of marble fell from its scaffolding and crushed the tiny body standing in the street.

The Valkyries were too stubborn and prone to violence to be left without some sort of check on their power, and so the weakest members of the race were targeted before they had a chance to mature into their full ability.

A herald entered the great hall and trumpeted everyone to attention. Once the people gathered for the evening meal had quieted, he introduced, "Queen Sorna Sydras Valkyros, known as the Scourge of Men, the Wyrm Slayer, and the Fair One!"

A woman stepped into the room, taller than any court lady present, except perhaps Hela. Her black armor absorbed the light of the thousands of candles, creating a dark void with her entrance. Her thick, platinum hair was bound in a mass of tiny braids. Fierce violet eyes glared at everyone who had bowed at her entrance, her face far too beautiful for such a cruel expression. Odin had never seen any other expression on her face besides rage, disgust, or complete apathy.

"Rise," Odin commanded of his people, still knelt before a queen of another race. He knew she would not tell them to rise, perfectly satisfied to let everyone kneel so long as she breathed. The King of Asgard despised the arrogance of her people, but he especially despised the unending arrogance of the Valkyries' Queen.

Queen Sorna raised her chin in disgust as she strode between the long tables laden with tittering courtiers. Women whispered to each other behind cupped hands as the Valkyros strode by, but Odin knew the woman's sharp, fey ears would hear and remember every insult. She approached the throne, eyes filled with hostility. They had been dealing with each other for thousands of years, neither fully concealing their hatred of the other. Although, the Valkyros did not even attempt to conceal her uncharitable feelings toward the Asgardian king. Odin was much more diplomatic; he at least pretended to be indifferent.

"Queen Sorna," Odin greeted, inclining his head.

"Odin," she replied, tipping her chin forward slightly. It was the bare minimum amount of respect she could show without incurring offense, but that had never stopped her before. She was trying to be respectful, or as much as her pride would allow. It made Odin suspicious, and from Hela's glance, he knew she felt the same way. His daughter and preeminent general leaned forward in anticipation and curiosity. They both pondered the same thing: why was the Valkyros even attempting to respect them when she had never done so before?

"What brings you to my father's court, Queen Sorna?" Hela asked. The Asgardian princess's deep blue eyes were narrowed wickedly, but the Valkyros was unflinching. General Hela was known to be vindictive and vicious, but the Valkyros was a different creature entirely. Valkyries were not taught to fear.

"I came from our stronghold to uphold tradition," the Valkyrie queen answered. "A daughter has reached her sixth summer and so has been brought to meet the Asgardian king."

"Well? Where is the girl, then?" Hela questioned.

The Valkyros's eyes flared with animosity, finding insult in Hela's flippancy. "Do not think to trifle with me, girl," the Valkyrie hissed, lips peeling back from white teeth to reveal inhumanly sharp canines. The court shuddered, exclaiming quietly as they realized the Valkyros was more beast than woman.

Hela stood from her throne abruptly, offended. "I don't care who you are, Valkyrie! You will not enter these halls and disrespect who you should grovel before!"

The Valkyros snarled, "I will not be insulted by a woman who willingly chains herself into the service of men, and especially not by an Asgardian!" Her hands curled at her sides, sharp claws lit with blue flame.

"Enough, Hela," Odin interrupted before his daughter began a fight she could not win. Hela, enraged, sank back into her seat obediently. The Valkyros sneered at Hela's subservience, but turned her attention back to the king. "Bring the daughter forward, then," Odin said, gesturing with one gauntleted hand. He wanted to get things over with so the monster before him would leave his lands as soon as possible. He held no love for the Valkyries, least of all for their tyrant queen.

"Chimaeria!" The Valkyros called without turning her eyes from the king. The violet held emotions Odin had never seen from the woman before, stoking his suspicions further.

A young girl entered the hall, her face devoid of expression. The Valkyries endeavored to train their daughters in the ways of both mental and physical battle from the moment they left the womb. Every child that had been brought before Odin had had the same apathetic arrogance as the adult Valkyries he knew. It made him wonder how exactly they trained their daughters, cloistered in their secretive mountain stronghold.

The only sign the girl gave was the minute flickering of her eyes as pointed ears listened to the surge of whispered comments from the courtiers. She approached the throne and stood beside the Valkyros, shoulders straight. Her gaze met Odin's evenly.

Odin was always unnerved by the Valkyries' daughters. They did not act like children he knew in Asgard. There was no mischief or laughter in their eyes, only distant disdain. They did not fidget and whine, but stood stoically silent beside the Valkyros and their mothers.

The king frowned and looked to the entry, eyes searching for the girl's mother. No other Valkyrie awaited introduction.

"Where is the girl's mother?" Odin asked. Never had a girl come with just the queen. The Valkyros always came to act as the traditional guardian of the young child and mother, while the mother was the one who would formally introduce her daughter to the king. It was a tradition that had been kept for thousands of years, unbroken. It was not like Queen Sorna to eschew tradition for a trivial reason, so Odin straightened as his suspicion increased.

"I am her mother," the Valkyros said.

None could conceal their surprise. Valkyries rarely gave birth, and only to females, never males. Judging by how often Valkyries had been to his great hall in the past centuries, Odin had surmised the birthrate was dwindling. It used to be a new child was brought once every few decades, then it was once a century, and now the first Valkyrie child he had met for 250 years was the queen's own daughter.

Queen Sorna gestured to the girl, who moved to stand in front of her mother, facing the royals. Her mother's hands clasped her shoulders. "Chimaeria Synsara Valkyros Kallistos, the next Valkyros."

Odin nearly jolted in his chair. Valkyros wasn't just the title of the Valkyrie queen; it was also Queen Sorna's family name, passed from woman to woman. The Valkyries had named their highest position after the most ancient and potent bloodline among them. Sorna Sydras Valkyros was the most powerful Valkyrie alive, the latest in a long, unbroken line of Valkyrie queens.

Yet, her daughter had a different last name.

"Why has she not taken the last name Valkyros, as is custom?" Odin questioned, thoroughly stunned. The Valkyries were a proud race of warrior women; they had never taken the name of another before. Odin did not like to be left in the dark. He felt that a great shift in the realm was happening just before his eyes.

"I married," the queen answered simply. "My daughter took my husband's name. She may regain Valkyros in full if she wishes, when she ascends the throne."

"You?! You _married_?!" Hela demanded, agog. Even the courtiers, who knew very little of the Valkyries beyond legends and what few they had seen, understood how unexpected the news was. The warrior women were fiercely independent and did not believe in marriage, as they would never allow themselves to be subservient to a man.

"Yes, and it is not a concern of Asgard," Queen Sorna replied frostily. She refused to entertain questions about her private life. Asgard knew nothing of what life was like among the Valkyries within the Stronghold, and she intended to keep it that way. Any slight bit of information would be like gold in Odin's greedy fingers. The Valkyries did not trust the Asgardians, a feeling which was mutual.

Hela quieted beneath Odin's quelling gaze. "Well," he said, deciding to think more on the stunning revelation later, "I am eager to meet the next Valkyrie queen." His words were a blunt command to continue the tradition. He would meet this young girl, the next in line to the throne, and treat her as if it was a normal, traditional meeting.

All eyes turned to the girl. She stepped forward, eyes of an unearthly metallic gold holding steady. Odin curiously noted the strangeness of the girl's features in comparison to any other Valkyries he had met.

The child's eyes were a startling shade of bright gold, ringed in darkest black. On a whim, the king shifted in his seat, allowing the radiant candle light to hit the golden throne. It cast a dazzling arc of light at the girl. Her pupils tightened into slits at the brightness, and Odin restrained the urge to frown. No other Valkyrie he had met had slit pupils, or the long, black claws that tipped each finger. Her thick, platinum hair was identical to her mother's, containing shades of white, silver, and the palest gold. But it was the eyes that held his attention, their unique oddity holding him hostage.

"I am Chimaeria Synsara Valkyros Kallistos, daughter of Queen Sorna Sydras Valkyros Kallistos. I have come to meet the Asgardian king," the child introduced herself.

Odin inclined his head. "Well met, young one. How do you manifest?" It was typical to ask how the Valkyrie child manifested their individual power, both to keep track of how powerful the girl would become and to note the danger she could one day pose.

"I have multiple manifestations," she said. Her voice was childlike, high and lilting, adding an even more disconcerting quality to her manner.

Odin felt Hela tense beside him. The child she had executed at his command had had two manifestations, power over healing and over water. While those two manifestations were nonthreatening compared to some others he had seen, such as power over lightening and power over all beasts, it was the combination that had been dangerous. Valkyries were already impervious to most weapons; nothing could break their skin to draw blood but a silver blade. They were also terrifyingly fast and strong, the ultimate race of warriors. Killing a bloodline at the root once it started to develop more than one manifestation was logical. He could not allow the Valkyrie species to gain too much power. While Asgardardians and their Valkyrie cousins had never gone to war against each other, Odin knew tensions had run high for millennia. He would not risk beginning a war he did not know the definite outcome of, and any war with the Valkyries he could not predict.

"How many do you have?" he asked, maintain his calm, genial façade. He was always nice to the children, even though the Valkyros grated on his every nerve.

"Three," she answered.

Her fate was decided, then. It was unfortunate to kill the princess, but Odin was confident Hela could make it look like an accident once more.

"What are they?" he asked leadingly. "Perhaps a demonstration would be in order."

The girl, Chimaeria, looked to her mother. At the queen's nod, Chimaeria shut her eyes and inhaled. When she opened them, she raised her hands to show Odin the black flames curling around her fingers, interspersed with strands of gold. It matched her eyes perfectly.

"Hell fire," Hela identified.

The king's wariness deepened. A strange child with eyes the exact color of the hell fire she controlled? It would not be borne in his realm. He would never allow such a risk to exist, especially not within the borders of his own realm.

He began to wish the Valkyros had come at a different time. The courtiers gathered would gossip over the meeting for weeks. Dispatching the child would be an obvious play, but he knew he had little choice. Once the Valkyries left the city, they were nearly impossible to track. Entering their stronghold was completely unheard of. He would have to have the child executed as soon as possible, risking the ensuing drama his court would stir up over the diplomatic nightmare of the Valkyrie princess dying days after meeting the King.

"Show me the next one," Odin commanded. He wanted the farce over with so he and Hela could plan the execution. The other manifestations no longer mattered, even with her having two other ones to reveal. Hell fire was lethal to any who touched it, except for those who could summon it. He had seen an entire planet scorched to ash and rock when a vengeful sorcerer had unleashed his power.

Chimaeria looked to her mother once more, who again granted permission, clearly bypassing the king's authority. The Valkyries were always careful to ensure they only acted under the order of their Valkyros, ignoring the King of Asgard, even though they lived in the realm of Asgard. Hela hissed at the insult.

The girl loosened the ties on her tunic, so that one thick strap down the middle of her back and connected to the hem on each side was all that kept it on her body. A wet crunch and slide of rent flesh broke the silence as Chimaeria continued to stare silently at the king. From over her shoulder emerged the two points of unfolding wings, arcing over her head in an inky display of feathers.

"Shapeshifting," Hela identified. "Can you fly with those?"

Chimaeria nodded.

The child was far too powerful. Odin would be much relieved when she died.

The wings slid back beneath her skin, healing over without a blemish.

"Are you trained?" Hela questioned. Discussing the Valkyrie's training was unusual for such a meeting, but Odin allowed it, curious as well.

"She will not answer that," The Valkyros snapped. "It is not Asgardian business to know."

Hela's face tightened in anger. "Perhaps I am just curious, Queen Sorna."

"You may be curious as much as you wish, but prying into the affair of my daughter's skills will not be tolerated." Sorna looked to Odin, dismissing Hela. "Is there anything else before we leave?"

"I need to see her last manifestation," Odin answered, "then you may depart."

"Before she shows you her third manifestation," Queen Sorna interjected before her daughter made a move, "I have a question."

The queen's rigid back and casually blank face alerted Odin to danger faster than a drawn sword. He gestured for her to continue, wary.

"Do you intend to see my daughter dead?"

Odin widened his eyes in innocent surprise as the courtiers gasped at the insult. "No, I would never wish your daughter and heir dead. Are you concerned for her safety? I can assign you a guard until you are five miles past the city, if it would ease your worry."

Queen Sorna looked down at her daughter. "Well?" she asked.

"Lie," Chimaeria whispered.

"You dare accuse the king of falsehood?" Hela coldly questioned.

"Her third manifestation is knowledge of truth," the Valkyros answered. "Chimaeria always knows when a lie is told."

Hela was stunned into silence, unaware of how to proceed with being caught out in the middle of the court. Odin was bristling with rage, but unable to find a way out of his own mess. He dearly wished the room was empty but for them.

"You intend to kill my daughter," Queen Sorna said quietly, tilting her head. Her violet eyes pierced Odin to his throne. "Did you also kill the other child I brought, centuries ago?"

"I did not touch her!" Odin snarled, hands fisting. The guards stationed against the walls limbered their spears in preparation.

"Did you order for her to be killed?"

He bared his teeth in answer.

Queen Sorna looked to Hela. "Did you kill the girl?"

"Yes!" Hela hissed savagely, unrepentant. Her hands slicked back her ebony hair, transformative magic working so a spiked war helm branched from her temples. Queen Sorna sighed loudly at the display and turned to her daughter.

"Truth," Chimaeria whispered at her mother's unasked question. It was the answer Sorna had expected.

The guards marched forward, spears at the ready, when Hela waved a hand. Queen Sorna looked at the half circle of bristling weapons askance and then turned to Odin.

"You will let us leave this hall and city," the Valkyros threatened, "or I will kill every child in this room in retribution." The courtiers shifted at her words, fear causing them to clutch their children closely. Their wide eyes looked to Odin for protection. He couldn't look those Asgardian children and their terrified parents in the eye. He knew the woman would do as she threatened. Queen Sorna had no soul, just an endless void that consumed violence and bloodlust like it was ambrosia.

"Allow me to command the guards," Hela whispered desperately to her father. "I can kill them myself!"

An Asgardian child whimpered, holding his father's sleeve as the Valkyros summoned blue fire into her palms. He ignored his daughter. "Go," he told the Valkyries, coldly furious that the courtiers' presence had left him unable to act. They turned and strode out, unhurried and unflustered. The doors to the great hall closed behind them and the room shuddered collectively.

"Leave us!" Odin bellowed at the silent nobles as they breathed deeply in relief. They fled like a flock of fragile birds, pecking and squawking their way into a different part of the castle, their fear no doubt disappearing before the greedy gossipers like bird seed.

Hela turned on him angrily as soon as the last guard had left the room and taken his post outside. Odin halted her with one hand, his single eye blazing. "Not a word, Hela! Just the child would have destroyed this entire realm, given the chance."

"I had my dagger in hand beneath my dress!" Hela snarled, uncaring of how she treated her father and king at the moment.

"Her mother is a thousand years older than you, and much faster. Sorna also has complete control over that blue fire of hers. She would have incinerated you before you finished the thought." Odin had no patience to focus on soothing Hela. His daughter was wildly ferocious and vindictive; her quarry escaping her did nothing to improve her attitude.

"Well, now that tiny monster is leaving Asgard as we speak, and that bitch queen knows we intend to kill her evil spawn. Our best chance of destroying the girl was within the city itself. What now, my King? We storm their heathen Stronghold, which no one has ever taken?"

"You will not speak to your King in such a way, Hela!" Odin thundered, the weight of his power and authority slamming into his wayward daughter. Despite her disrespect, his general brought up good points. Odin had to figure out how to kill the girl, while her mother and her sisters did their utmost to protect her. He wished he could just do away with the entire race, perched on the other side of his realm like predators lying in wait.

But what if he did exactly that? His forefathers had never considered it, but with Hela, the most powerful general Asgard had ever seen, it might succeed. He now had access to scores of off-realm troops he could sacrifice without care, rather than wasting Asgardian lives. Odin abhorred starting wars he knew he could not win, but with the might of all the conquered realms behind him? His chances were good.

"Hela," he said, a smile curling his mouth, "how do you feel about another war campaign?"

Her smile was blinding.


	2. Chapter 2

**10,000 Years Ago. The Stronghold. Asgard.**

Queen Sorna Sydras Valkyros calmly read the scroll in her hands, violet eyes flitting over the words quickly. She nodded once she finished reading, and then handed it back to her trusted advisor. "Odin has signed our death warrant."

The council gathered around her did not react. They had expected this for centuries, ever since Odin's father had passed and his more warmongering son ascended the throne. The Asgardians had always seen the Valkyries as sadistic fiends, populating the furthest reaches of the realm. Admittedly, the Valkyries had always dealt with those that encroached on their lands quickly and violently. They did not pretend to be a peace-seeking race, like Odin did with his people. They sought bloodshed liberally and were well known on other planets and in other realms for their warring tendencies.

"It is not a surprise. They do this because they see no other way to kill Chimaeria. They fear her, just as they feared Genesis," said a councilor. Centuries beforehand, her daughter had been killed in Asgard's capitol for the crime of being feared.

"They do this because they have always hated us," a grey-haired Valkyrie added. Thanaterys was so ancient, legends held she had seen the realms shaped from the hands of the universe. The only Valkyrie nearing her in age was the Valkyros. "Odin's father, Bor, once made noises about doing this as well. Then the Jotunn distracted him, but he instilled that same fear in his son."

The council was made up of six women, the heads of each Valkyrie coven. The covens each had fifty or so women that came loosely from the same bloodline. Sorna was the head of the Empyrea coven, which had been founded by the first Valkyrie, named Valkyros. The Valkyries only numbered around 300, but that was for the best, considering their hot tempers.

"What is our course of action?" asked Atlanta, the mother of the child slaughtered by Hela.

"Normally, I would say we declare war," Sorna began. "However, Odin now commands the armies for many of the realms. Eventually, our Stronghold would fall, our species in ashes."

Thanaterys nodded in agreement. "I have seen thousands of species fall beneath the might of Asgard. I would not watch the same happen to the Valkyries."

Phoenix stood angrily to her feet and thumped the butt of her sword on the table. "We are not cowards! I will not hide from the lying king on his golden throne! Let them come," she said, falling back into her seat. "I will greet them with a smile and a blade."

"Rousing words, Phoenix," Thanaterys chuckled. "Your mother was also quite well known to be a fool."

The offended councilor snarled, but didn't dare attack. Rank was accorded by age and then power. However, not all Valkyries wore their age. The more powerful the Valkyrie, the less she aged. The current Valkyros had been in power for 10,000 years, but she looked only thirty. Thanaterys was older than Sorna by a few centuries, but looked millennia older. Thanaterys outranked everyone except the Valkyros because of her age, but Sorna was queen because of her power and bloodline. Queenship could be decided by a battle if the Valkyros bloodline was deemed unfit, but no one dared challenge Sorna.

"I have an idea," the youngest councilor said. She had just assumed the seat of her coven following her mother's death.

"Yes?" Sorna asked, granting the councilor permission to speak. Respect was earned among the Valkyries' covens. Until the youngest councilor had proven herself, there was still protocol to follow. Only Thanaterys could speak her mind freely in the council chamber, her rank just below Sorna's.

"We could scatter across the realms. Yes," she said, eyeing the women who snarled at her statement, "it would mean abandoning the Stronghold. But if we leave this place, Odin cannot hunt us down with his armies. He cannot wage a war against a strategically scattered force. He would have to resort to bounty hunters and mercenaries, which pose a much smaller threat."

"You speak truth," Sorna admitted. "Though we are loathe to leave our home, if it comes between defending this heap of stone and securing the continuation of my sisters, there is not a choice to be made."

"We have held this place since the dawn of time," Phoenix argued. "Our entire history is behind these walls."

"Our entire history is made outside of these walls," Calla interrupted. The councilor, ranked just above Phoenix, steepled her fingers. The metal adornments on her hands ended in sharp talons, a trademark of the Dragos coven. "We have never been remembered for the things we do inside the Stronghold. We are known for the deeds done in the realms."

"This is our ancestral home," Atlanta agreed, "but I would have abandoned it for the chance to raise my daughter to adulthood. I now have no heir but my cousin's daughter to lead the Hysteria coven. I would tear down this hall by hand to see my daughter alive another day."

Sorna looked at the young councilor, Adriata. "Have you any ideas for the logistics of this plan?"

"Well," she began, "we would have to split the covens up into family groups. Each family group would go to a distant part of the realms and wait there unless they needed to relocate when they were found. There would be no way to communicate-"

"What?!" interrupted Phoenix.

"You may finish _without interruption_ , Adriata," Sorna said, with a warning look at her wayward advisor.

"Except by the use of a spell I have devised," Adriata continued. "But the spell can only be used in the gravest circumstance. It will let any Valkyrie know the exact whereabouts of every single Valkyrie alive. If it fell into the wrong hands, it would be catastrophic."

"Why can we not communicate?" Phoenix demanded.

"Communications are too easy to detect," Adriata explained. "Excluding a very limited few, the Valkyrie are not sorceresses like what Odin has access to. Odin himself has always been a talented sorcerer. He alone could probably track the kind of magic that is powerful enough to communicate across realms. But this spell provides a failsafe, so if one day this edict is canceled, we may regather here."

"Or should we need to make a final stand," Sorna said, speaking everyone's morbid thoughts aloud.

"How would this spell work?" Thanaterys questioned.

Pleased to be taken seriously by the august body she had just joined, Adriata flushed. "My coven is well known for inventing spells that the Valkyries can use. This spell is blood work, just like many others."

The Valkyries, for all their physical power and unique manifestations, were a finicky species. They could not learn and control magic like any other race. Excluding the manifestations they were naturally born with, they had no arcane power. The magic did not hold to their bodies like it did with Asgardians, Midgardians, the Vanaheim, or anyone else in the realms. However, Adriata's coven, the Mydeans, were singular in their ability to create extremely powerful blood spells that worked with the willful shedding of Valkyrie blood. Only a handful of spells existed, not enough to fill a single chapter of a grimoire, but each spell was incredibly useful.

"You will teach every Valkyrie this spell," Sorna determined. "Including those not yet of age."

"At once, Valkyros," she agreed quickly, happy to be of use.

"Adriata's plan may be our best option," Sorna addressed the councilors. They all looked to their queen for leadership and protection. Thanaterys the Wise, Myope the Silent, Calla the Noble, Phoenix the Furious, Atlanta the Brave, and Adriata Spellweaver. It was Sorna's duty to ensure these women and their covens lived well, without fear of their babes being torn from their breasts. "We have not warred since Sutur sought to steal one of our own for his wife, 3,000 years ago. We invaded his realm and retrieved the stolen Valkyrie. Before that, we warred with Jotunn, who killed one of our own for her power over ice. We avenged her death sevenfold. And even before that, 12,000 years ago, when my mother Bellona Diana Valkyros killed the dark elf king Marvath Nightsword after he kidnapped and violated my younger sister, Perpetua, who even now hunts the dark elves at the edges of the universe for her own retribution."

"We have not lost a single war, a single battle, a single skirmish," Thanaterys, head of the Diapheria coven, added, standing tall as she gazed at each of the women in turn. "We aided the Asgardians in their first war against the Jotunn when the grandfather of Odin, Buri, came to our Stronghold, set down his arms, sank to his knees, and begged us for help, during a time so long ago the years were not numbered."

"When the first Valkyrie was slain by the dragons of the Anaheim, we hunted them to extinction," Atlanta said, rising to stand beside Thanaterys. "We still use their obsidian skins for armor."

"We defeated the light elves when they sought conquest and came for our Stronghold," Phoenix declared, once again standing, "vanquishing them back to their realm with their tails between their legs."

Calla the Noble grinned, slowly rising as well. "And we also fought the dwarves that time they tried to mine beneath our mountains without permission. They still shiver in fear at the sight of us, despite the ones at fault being dead millennia past."

"When the primordial being Ego attempted to trick one of the Valkyrie into bearing his spawn for conquest, we chased him to the other end of the galaxy," Adriata said, barely containing her laughter as she rose to her feet.

Myope the Silent, head of the mysterious Astra coven which often produced manifestations of prophecy, rose to her feet silently. Myope was ranked third in the council, just behind Thanaterys, but she commanded an extra air of respect for how rarely she spoke, and the future that could be revealed with her rare words. She looked at the gathered councilors, black eyes depthless, coiled curls left free around her dark face. "I have foreseen a time when we become scattered to distant stars. All will fight. Many will be cut down. Some will survive. But one will become most ruthless, most cruel, most loyal to the Valkyries. She will remember her sisters which were exiled by Odin. She will call them forth and lead them into battle."

The councilors were in Myope's thrall, caught in the spell the prophetess wielded with immaculate grace.

"She will be feared, ridiculed, before her time comes. Her life will be harsh, filled with brutal lessons. But she grows strong because of it. She will be the most powerful Valkyrie ever born. She is the pure blade and the scared flame that will destroy and create. She is the truth that will mate the silver lies. She will create ashes and will rise from them more terrifying than before. She will be the final Valkyros queen, by Blaze and Blade, by Sword and Strength, by Flame and Fortune."

All of the councilors looked to Queen Sorna at Myope's final chilling words. The queen held herself tall and still, thick platinum hair braided in a crown about her ears. She looked to her sisters, standing before her, ready for her words. She had led these women for 10,000 years, since the death of her mother Bellona. Her great-great-great-great-great-grandmother, Brynhildr Brightstar Valkyros, was the first Valkyros. She was formed from the death of the brightest star; infused with the breath of their female deity, Sigrún; gifted in battle by Sigrún's lover, Nike, the goddess of victory; and then blessed in beauty by the celibate goddess Alphya, whom they paid homage to by keeping women of all races and species safe from untoward males. Brynhildr had been the first of Sorna's line, the first head of the coven Empyrea, and the very first Valkyros, who had led her sisters to victory against the Asgardians when they had first settled this plane.

As the Valkyrie had begun with Brynhildr Brightstar Valkyros, who had built the Stronghold they had held for millennia immemorial, the Valkyrie would leave the Stronghold, led by Sorna Sydras Valkyros. And Sorna's daughter, or granddaughter, or so on would be the last Valkyros queen and accept the mantle to herald a new age.

"It is fitting, I suppose," Sorna said, a wry smile she shared only with her sisters curving her face. "For this final battle, a Valkyros will once again lead us to victory."

"I have watched you and the women before you lead us with might and wisdom," Thanaterys said, pale eyes crinkling with pride. "It has been my honor to follow you, Queen Sorna Sydras Valkyros."

"By Blaze and Blade! By Sword and Strength! By Flame and Fortune!" Phoenix called, the chamber ringing with the sacred words of the Valkyrie, each statement accorded to one of the three goddesses.

"By Blaze and Blade! By Sword and Strength! By Flame and Fortune!" the other women ritualistically replied, banging their weapons to their breastplates rhythmically.

Sorna nodded gracefully, recognizing the respect she had been given. "We follow Adriata's plan. Go, my sisters. Inform your covens, the Diapheria, the Mydeans, the Dragos, the Astra, the Hysteria. Allow them to split themselves among family groups before they depart for the other realms. Pass along the words spoken here. Tell them how proud we are to invoke such fear in the lying king, Odin Burison. Tell them of our victories, past and future. Tell them to remember our history and pass it down to their future daughters, so our legends are not lost as Asgard might wish. Tell them of our nobility, our courage, our craft. Tell them Myope the Silent herself has prophesied our return, so they will not despair at losing the home they have always known. Tell them our goddesses watch over us. Sigrún, who protects us by Blaze and Blade. Nike, who instructed us in victory with Sword and Strength. And the great Alphya, who saw what her friends had created and loved us so much that she declared us perfect and blessed us with her own holy Flame and Fortune."

"We do not flee before the tide of Asgard, sisters," Thanaterys said, wind sweeping her hair from her face and ruffling the banners on the walls.

"We wait to be led by the last Valkyros to the final battle," Phoenix declared, her red hair limned in shifting flames at her passion.

"The Valkyrie do not know defeat," Calla continued. It was an ancient war declaration, for each council member to speak words from their heart before showing off their manifestations before the queen. The saber cat at her feet growled, baring its teeth, as Calla commanded the beast to do so.

"The Valkyrie do not know fear," Atlanta spoke. The water in each of the glasses set before the councilors answered her call, rising from their confines to swirl around her hands. "My daughter, Genesis, did not know fear—even as she breathed her last from crushed lungs, dead within my arms."

"Our enemies number many, and we number few. But each of us counts for an entire army, and shall fell a thousand armies before we ever lay down weapons. A Valkyrie will gift her life to the goddesses herself before she kneels," Adriata said, referring to the final ritual: before being defeated, a Valkyrie would rather take her own life in service to her goddesses than submit obedience to another. Adriata's words echoed through the chamber and through her sisters' minds, all of their emotions lifting in fury and pride. Her manifestation was a deep connection to all Valkyries, mental, emotional, and physical.

"We will return, stronger than before, more feared among the realms than the falling dark that shrouds the stars and brings eternal night," Myope the Silent murmured, her gift of prophecy pouring from full lips.

Sorna's bright blue flames, a fire that burned colder than the heart of Jotunnheim, lit her fingers and traveled down the blade she had unsheathed. She thrust the blade into the heart of the chamber, right over the mosaic of their deities. The tip of her sword pierced the image of the heart of Brynhildr as she was formed. The blue fire flashed and traveled into the mosaic, breathing brief life into the figures so that hair blew back in false breezes, and lashes fluttered as grins quirked between the lovers, Sigrún and Nike. The celibate goddess Alphya woke in her mosaic likeness, silver eyes glinting in benevolence at her daughters. Then, Alphya closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as the sword sunk further into Brynhildr's heart. The mosaic goddess's hands shifted to grasp the blade of the sword tightly. She nodded at her gathered daughters, love blooming in her eyes and falling warm upon the coven leaders. Then the blue fire died, and Alphya's eyes shut, as the mosaic once more fell still.

"The last Valkyros will return to our Stronghold to start anew. Only she may retrieve the sword from the stone, at Alphya's blessing. Our goddesses will watch over our Stronghold, as we have since time immortal. No we go out into the realms as we haven't in millennia, to live among the worlds and fight the final battle for survival. By Blaze and Blade. By Sword and Strength. By Flame and Fortune."

"By Blaze and Blade! By Sword and Strength! By Flame and Fortune!" her sisters called, raising their hands in supplication to their goddesses.

And war began.


	3. Chapter 3

**9,995 Years Ago. The Mountains of the Valkyrie. Asgard.**

"What do you mean, you can't find them?!" Hela demanded, the scout quivering in fear.

"Their Stronghold is d-deserted. All the Valkyries are g-gone," he stuttered.

Hela screamed. She swept all of her maps and figures off the table before her in a rage, but the clattering of tiny figurine armies hitting the floor did not assuage her temper. Odin had finally given her permission to turn the heathen Valkyrie Stronghold into a mass grave, but the women must have received word of the Extinction Edict.

King Odin had written the Extinction Edict in his war chambers five years ago, mere days after the Valkyros had left Asgard for the last time. It had outlined the crimes of the Valkyrie against Asgard and its Kings and the constituent realms. The Edict had described the only acceptable punishment to be immediate and utter destruction, carried out by the Crown Princess and General, Hela. That beautiful document, treasured in Hela's bloodstained fingers, had gifted her the power to finally eviscerate that bitch queen Sorna. But not before Hela killed the creature's daughter right before her eyes.

 _Five years._ It had been five fucking years since Odin had promised Hela her war campaign. Those years had been spent assembling, arming, provisioning, and then summoning the armies of the realms under Asgardian control. The force gathered stretched to the horizon, bristling with weapons meant to kill a measly number of women. Hela was furious that her glorious army would not have their due.

"I will find out how those beasts got word, and the result will _not_ be pleasant," Hela snarled viciously, imagining bodies torn limb from limb.

"I will find out for you at once, my lady," the retainer said. At her impatient wave, he scurried from her presence, relieved to escape the focus of her wrath.

Hela turned to one of the guards stationed against the canvas wall. "Pick this mess up and fix everything exactly as I had it," she ordered, indicating the maps strewn over the ground. He hurried to do as she commanded. She breathed deeply, attempting to regain her temper. She would find them, wherever they had gone.

The princess stalked from her war tent, encamped at the foothills of the Valkyries' mountains. She was glad she had not followed her heart and sent an entire battalion up to the Stronghold, with her at the helm. It would have been a great embarrassment to find the fortress empty while her men looked to her for direction. Instead, she had sent a vanguard of soldiers who had performed the poorest during training. Either the men would not return if the Valkyries slaughtered them, not a huge loss since the men had proved themselves useless anyway, or they would return with information. She had not cared if the men returned alive or not; she had no room for weaklings in her armies.

She approached the tent of the war council, which convened to advise her whenever they campaigned. The grizzled old warriors sequestered from the battlefield bored her. She would rather be shedding blood than discussing tactics, despite her talent for it.

The men had already gathered for the meeting, summoned by the rumors the other useless men of the vanguard had no doubt spread among the war camp. "General Hela," Valli, her uncle, greeted. He had been Odin's head general before her, but Hela had usurped the old man handily after she had soundly defeated Vanaheim's impenetrable defenses to conquer the neighboring realm. The other men gathered followed suit, rising from their cushioned seats to bow to their princess.

"We have a problem," she said, wasting no time on pleasantries with men she did not care for, at best, and despised at the worst. "The Valkyries have fled. Likely, they have split up, rather than traveling together to colonize a new planet."

"The Valkyries have always been very attached to their community," Valli disagreed, regaining his seat. "I believe they would have all gone together."

"You believe wrong, Uncle," Hela sneered. "Sorna is a bitch, but she's smart. She would want to avoid meeting an army head to head, even though each Valkyrie is supposedly powerful enough to defeat entire battalions."

"It only took ten Valkyrie to defeat the entire army of the dark elves while their queen at the time, Sorna's mother, Bellona Diana, killed the Svartalfar king in hand to hand combat," the oldest among them, Councilor Yunus, shared. "We know they have around 300, at least 250 of which have reached their first millennia and come fully into their power. If those Valkyries are like the ones of lore, it would be a bloodbath."

"Thank you for your unsolicited story, Councilor Yunus," Hela smiled sweetly. No one was fooled. "But I am not here to fight overblown legends."

"Not even counting their strange gifts, the Valkyries are just as strong as an Asgardian, and faster. Additionally, their skin is impervious to any blade not made from silver," Valli informed.

"All of my men are armed with silver weapons, Uncle, you know this."

"I agree with the princess," Councilor Janum stated. "Sorna is no fool. While she is confident of her people's prowess, she would not want to risk their lives unnecessarily when they would be better served merely avoiding outright conflict."

"It is not their way to avoid battle," Valli continued doggedly.

"They are not avoiding battle, just leaving the only place we know for sure they are," Councilor Janum argued heatedly. He was one of the councilors Hela did not hate. He was a smart man; he always agreed with her.

"They have lived here since before King Buri's father set down the foundation for his palace," Valli retorted. "They would not abandon it."

"They would if they considered it only temporary," Councilor Janum pointed out.

"They intend to draw us out and pick us off until Odin either dies or rescinds the Edict," Hela said, interrupting the men's squabbles. "They know we cannot attack them full force if they are scattered across the realms."

"Queen Sorna has always been a clever adversary," Valli admitted, softening toward their logic.

"Yet she underestimates how little I care to expend the lives of foreign armies," Hela smirked, eyeing the maps spread before her. The maps in the councilors' war tent were not as nice as her own, but they would do. She pointed to the wooden figures representing the armies of the conquered realms she had in her service. "We will send specially trained mercenary groups from these armies. We will put bounties on the head of each Valkyrie to inspire competition, and offer lands and worthless titles to those who can kill Sorna, her daughter, or any Valkyrie we know are bigger threats, to inspire participation. We will offer them the weapons we have already forged in excess. If we can make this extermination a blood sport, bounty hunters from the farthest reaches will run to take part."

"Sorna will be counting on this," Councilor Yunus warned. Valli nodded in agreement.

"Other than the princess, I am the only one here who has met the Valkyros. She is vicious and hot-headed, but I don't doubt she's intelligent. She will expect this from us," Hela's uncle advised.

Hela scoffed, leaning forward on the table. Her leather body armor was fitted to her form, but none of the councilors would dare lay their eyes below her neck. Hela was unforgiving of such actions. "That bitch queen would have concealed her spawn until she was of age if she were so smart, Uncle. Yet, the child was in the palace not a week ago. Sorna may expect this move on our part, but if she is afraid enough to flee her supposedly impregnable Stronghold, then she knows eventually, her bestial race will come to an end."

"Do not underestimate Sorna, niece," Valli warned.

The princess sneered at her Uncle, not bothering to conceal her disdain for the washed-up general. Her father had discarded of him as soon as he realized how much better she was. Her superiority was palpable. "I do not fear the Valkyries, Uncle. Their time ended long ago."

Hela stood straight, smoothing her spiked helm into place over her head. "I will go to the other realms myself to relay my orders. I want you all to organize the transfer of weapons and to decide the bounties on the well-known Valkyries."

The councilors assented and dispersed to do the general's bidding, but Valli hung back. The graying warrior, once vaunted, approached the crown princess. "I beseech you to be careful and not hunt the Valkyros yourself," he implored. "We cannot afford to lose the crown princess."

Hela was slightly mollified by her Uncle's care. She did not doubt the man loved her as his niece, but she was also aware he resented her position. "I am under orders from the King himself, you are well aware of this. However, I have no intention to do more than command the groups of mercenaries. It is beneath my station to act as a glorified wolfhound, even if I would enjoy slaughtering Sorna and her spawn myself."

Valli smiled, unsurprised by her arrogance. He could always use that to work with her, though she would be incensed to know it.

"I take my leave of the war camp," Hela said, walking outside the tent to see that her wolf, Fenrir, was prepped for travel. "I leave you in charge of sacking the Stronghold and fitting it as an outpost for a battalion."

"As you say, general," Valli agreed.

Hela departed, and Valli carried out her orders. The Stronghold, which had not had a single toe inside it that did not belong to a Valkyrie, was thoroughly scourged of anything the warrior women had left behind. Odin's brother remained to oversee the outpost, deemed an important fortress by Hela and Odin for its proximity to illegal inter-realm portals within the mountains.

The soldiers enjoyed ransacking the mountain home of the Valkyries, fully inundated by the caustic lies spread by Odin and Hela of the Valkyries' corruption. Odin, the lying king, was twisting the legends to turn the mighty into monsters, so his people would support his campaign against them. So his soldiers burned the tapestries depicting the beautiful women in battle; they torched the immaculate gardens that had been kept by earth-gifted Valkyries for generations; they utterly destroyed the armory, disgusted by the weapons the Valkyries had used to fight their wars and kill men. They did their utmost to erase the rich history of the Valkyries, pissing all over their culture and art as conquerors like.

However, to their gall, they could not remove the sword from the stone. They destroyed the chamber around it, smashing the fey faces of the heathen goddesses, taking special care to ensure the deities did not have a single recognizable visage anywhere. But the sword remained unmoved.

As it would for the next 10,000 years.


	4. Chapter 4

**Finally, the MC introduction! And some plot!**

 **8,894 Years Ago. Greece. Midgard.**

Queen Sorna Sydras Valkyros knelt in the sand, a blade at her throat. The blade was twin to the sword held to her nape, so her neck was neatly held between silvered edges. She breathed heavily, her legendary stamina worn out by her attacker.

"Well?" her adversary demanded impatiently.

Sorna smiled grimly, finally defeated. "I concede."

Her daughter smiled in return and removed the blades from her mother's neck, sheathing them each with a fluid motion in the scabbards crisscrossed over her back. "Finally," she groused, holding out her hand to her mother. "That's five times in a row! That means I-"

"Yes, yes, I am aware of what I promised you," Sorna said, flapping her hands at her daughter. She took the offered hand and was pulled to her feet, her daughter's limber strength never failing to surprise her.

Valkyrie were usually tall, but Chimaeria stood several inches taller than her mother still. Her figure was long and lean, mostly legs that were built for grace and speed. Thanks to Chimaeria's speed, strength, and flexibility, she had quickly become the most lethal swordswoman Sorna had ever seen. The introduction of the twin swords had made Chimaeria into the most dangerous swordswoman in the realms.

Sequestered on Midgard, Sorna's family group had lived and trained in secret. There had been two run-ins with mercenaries which had been quickly dealt with, prompting the family to move from place to place on the diverse planet. They had been among the Greeks for nearly a thousand years. Before the Greeks, it had been the peoples of the Northern continent, and before that, the jungles of Africa. In Africa, Myope and her family had settled, blending in perfectly with the people they resembled. "It is as close to home as we can get without the Stronghold," the normally silent Myope had said. Last Sorna had heard, around three hundred years ago, Myope had even fallen in love and had a daughter.

All across the realms, the Valkyries lay concealed. Odin had yet to die or rescind the Edict, so the women remained in hiding and awaited their glorious return, led by the last Valkyros. Many Valkyrie had died, weakened by silver arrows and then outnumbered by hired mercenaries. By her count, which was dated by two hundred years when she had last met with a nomad Valkyrie that bravely traveled alone to keep her sisters informed, two hundred Valkyrie were left. For a species of only three hundred, which rarely reproduced, the prospect was daunting. Sorna only hoped enough women remained to fight whenever the last Valkyros came.

And every day, Sorna became more and more sure that the Valkyrie of Myope's prophecy was her own daughter, Chimaeria.

Chimaeria had grown into the most beautiful woman Sorna had ever seen. It was as if the goddess Alphya, celibate despite being the most gorgeous being in the universe, had painted Chimaeria herself with a brush of gold. Sorna prayed daily that Sigrún would temper her daughter's beauty with humility. So far, Sorna had only dealt with her daughter's arrogance.

Sorna had to keep in mind that she could not raise her daughter among the Empyrea coven as she would have before. When Sorna had been Queen over all the Valkyries, she would have been able to ensure Chimaeria was kept in check by the other women. However, Sorna had only her small family group to depend upon, and so she had defaulted to simply making sure Chimaeria was well aware of her weaknesses.

Unfortunately, one of Chimaeria's weaknesses was beautiful things.

The other Valkyrie despaired of keeping shiny things from Chimaeria's grasp. She collected shells, rocks, dried flowers, any odds and ends that caught her eye, and then hoarded them in secret caches to admire later. Once, Chimaeria had cut a lock of hair from her cousin, finding the deep black captivating. Clytemnestra had been very displeased.

Chimaeria was also fascinated by beautiful people, freely sharing her love with Midgardians of her choice. Sorna did not disparage sexual love, but if her daughter ever tried to marry anyone, much less a mortal Midgardian, Sorna would beseech the goddesses to put her out of her misery.

Other than her strange obsession with her hoard, Chimaeria had very few weaknesses. She had the typical Valkyrie weakness to silver. But her father's blood had gifted her with a strong resistance to most magic, which other Valkyrie had little defense against. Spells slid off Chimaeria's skin in a fall of colorful glitter, just like her father.

Thankfully, Chimaeria had reached her majority, joining the adult ranks of Valkyrie when she hit the thousand-year mark. She was still very young compared to the others of their family group, but she had reached the age where her manifestations came fully into their power.

Although, Sorna had been both pleased and unnerved to discover, Chimaeria's power had continued to grow. Valkyries usually plateaued at a thousand years of age, but Chimaeria was 112 years past 1,000 and had shown no signs of stopping. Sorna attributed this to her father's unpredictable blood. It only strengthened the suspicion that her daughter was the last Valkyros.

"You may go to the Midgardian festival," Sorna acceded finally, retrieving her fallen blade. Her daughter whooped in glee. It was hard to think of Chimaeria as the foretold Valkyros when her actions reminded Sorna of how young she was. Despite her fearsome power, Chimaeria was still hardly an adult by their standards. Chimaeria Synsara Valkyros Kallistos was 1,116 years old, thousands of years younger than her cousin and more thousands of year younger than the rest of her family.

"I will change into something less shocking," Chimaeria teased, gesturing to her legs, bared from right above the middle of her thigh by the flaps of her dragon scale armor. "Last time I went to the village after training, the women threatened to banish me for indecency." She rolled her eyes dramatically. "Like I haven't had my way with half of them and their-"

"By Alphya's girdle, Chimaeria," her mother interrupted, scowling. "The Valkyries have always been free with their affection, but you must always take things even further."

Chimaeria grinned, revealing sharp canines. "How else would I annoy you, oh feared Valkyros?" With a laugh at her mother's consternation, the young woman ran for her family's small network of caves and nimbly leaped from rock to rock to the entrance.

Sorna watched her daughter disappear into their shared cave, waving in greeting at the other Valkyrie polishing their blades. Sorna's sister also watched Chimaeria, and then sheathed her blade to leap from the cliff ledge. She approached her sister, tipping her head in deference to the queen.

"Perpetua," Sorna warmly greeted. Her sister had left her revenge hunt on the edges of the universe to join their family group on Midgard, bringing along her daughter Clytemnestra. Sorna and Perpetua had quickly regained their old comradery. Chimaeria and Clytemnestra had a more strained relationship due to their differing personalities, but Sorna and Perpetua knew the girls loved each other fiercely despite that.

"She grows stronger every day," Perpetua murmured, eyes resting where Chimaeria had disappeared.

"Yes," Sorna agreed. "I thank the goddesses for it. You know how large the target on her head is."

"Larger than yours, I believe," Perpetua teased lightly. "Look at you, the most powerful Valkyrie to ever live, with less worth than a girl twenty thousand years younger."

"It would aggrieve me if I had not just been beaten in mere moments, without the use of her gifts," chuckled Sorna. "With her hellfire added to the spar, it takes her but a thought to force my defeat."

"And how does your husband fair, dear sister? It has been several weeks since he has visited from his wanderings."

Sorna smiled slyly, thinking of her handsome golden-eyed husband. "You know how he is, Perpetua. Things are better this way. We do not tire of each other when he spends many weeks at a time exploring the realms. He is a creature than cannot and should not be chained, but instead be left free to wander. His very form seeks freedom from permanence."

"Ah, yes, Khao Kallistos, only identifiable by his golden eyes," Perpetua snarked. "I can't believe you married, and it's been over a thousand years now."

Sorna laughed, amused by her sister's stubborn insistence on tradition. Sorna was the very first Valkyrie to ever marry, but she had not done it just out of love for her husband, Khao. She had also done it because she knew his influence in her daughter's life would create a formidable Valkyrie. Sorna was not one to turn away an advantage, especially not when it came to her daughter's life.

Chimaeria reemerged from the cave, clad in a white chiton gathered at the waist with a slim rope. She towered over the petite, dark-skinned women of the Midgardian village, but they all loved her anyway. It was a common joke among the Valkyrie over how much Chimaeria stood out from her mortal friends.

Sorna's daughter had the same long, platinum hair, hanging in a mass of braids all the way to the base of her spine. Some braids had been fitted with gold clamps, stamped with runes that held significance to her personally. From her father, Chimaeria had inherited her chatoyant eyes, a bright metallic gold outlined in black, like a lioness. Her pupils retracted into diamond slits in the light, mesmerizing and exotic in her angled, fine-boned face. Unlike her mother, Chimaeria's eyebrows were black, drawing even more attention to the exquisite shade of her eyes. The contrast between her pale, shining hair and metallic eyes was startling, almost alien.

Despite her odd coloration, Chimaeria's face was identical to her mother's, aunt's and cousin's. A pert nose, slim and defined jaw, high cheekbones, and full, bowed lips were all a stamp of the Valkyros name. Her skin, which shimmered faintly with golden whorls, belonged to no one Sorna knew, wholly unique.

Chimaeria waved as she departed, climbing swiftly up the cliff face until she reached the dusty footpath used by Midgardians of the village for decades to reach the sea. The sun caught on Chimaeria's claws, drawing Sorna's attention once again to how different her daughter was from the average Valkyrie. All Valkyrie had pale claws at their fingertips, but Chimaeria's claws were pitch black. Her canines were also more pronounced, her fey ears pointier.

Thankfully, her daughter did not care at all for her differences. Valkyrie were all born from mixed relations. Some showed their father's blood more than others. Clytemnestra's father had been a dark elf. While she had the same violet eyes and face of the Valkyros bloodline, her hair was a deep indigo, so dark it was nearly black. She was also extremely powerful, producing two manifestations. Clytemnestra Sorna Valkyros had power over shadow and short-burst teleportation. She could not teleport more than a distance of one mile and could not take people with her, but it was still incredibly useful, especially during battle.

Chimaeria had produced three powerful manifestations before the age of six summers. Sorna remembered the way dread and pride had warred in her heart when she had watched her daughter advance so early. Sorna had known Asgard would not allow her daughter to live. But she had kept with tradition anyway and brought Chimaeria to Odin, knowing a Valkyrie queen could not cower in fear. Odin would have eventually come to investigate if she had an heir; he had known her since her mother had brought her before his father, twenty thousand years ago. The Edict would have come to pass in any timeline, so Myope had claimed. Hiding Chimaeria would have merely increased Odin's wrath, prompting him to rash actions.

The manifestations of hellfire, shapeshifting, and knowledge of truth were each incredibly useful on their own. Combined, they became unstoppable.

Perpetua and Sorna waved in return, but the girl had already gone and did not see. Perpetua glanced sidelong at her beloved sister. "You must counter her instability before it grows."

Sorna sighed. It was a tense subject between the two of them, but she knew her sister was right. Chimaeria was dangerously unstable, courtesy of her father's natural inclination to disorder. Khao Kallistos was the most unpredictable being she had ever met. And then she had given birth to his daughter, and discovered new heights.

She was not as prone to mischief as her father, but she certainly inherited his instability. She was impatient and volatile. Chimaeria and her father were either thick as thieves or at each other's throats over some silly squabble. Sorna had discovered a wrinkle at the corner of her eye, and she put the full blame on her husband's and daughter's petty arguments.

"I see little way to do it," Sorna admitted to her sister. "She is loyal and considers her responsibilities seriously, which is good. But she lacks finesse and diplomacy."

"Sorna Sydras, worrying if her daughter is diplomatic," Perpetua snorted.

"Among her own people, she should strive to be open to diplomacy," Sorna argued. "I could not care less over other species, but you remember how the council could get at times, even before Phoenix ascended."

"Yes, yes, I recall," Perpetua said. "But she has some time before she needs to worry over that. The older she gets, the more you should force her to take on a leadership role and socialize with the family. Maybe someday, we can bring the coven together. She will need to be diplomatic among her peers then."

"She has no problems with leadership," Sorna reminded. "She is excellent at directing people, and she is a consummate strategist."

"She's a great general, but not as great of a leader," Perpetua corrected. "You just described someone who goes to war, not a peacetime Valkyros."

Sorna frowned at the gentle censure. "Clytemnestra would be the better leader," she admitted.

Perpetua smiled at her daughter in pride. Clytemnestra was sparring with another Valkyrie a short distance away, her curved sword flashing in the sunlight. "Yes," Perpetua agreed. "She is a good leader, and powerful as well. But she is not a single gust of wind to the storm of power at Chimaeria's command."

"It is a worry for another time," Sorna echoed Perpetua. "For now, we train them, prepare them. We survive. It is all we can do."

"We cherish what is left to us," Perpetua added, eyes glued to her daughter as she disarmed her opponent. She had raised her daughter away from the coven, consumed by her pain and rage after her assault. Despite how Clytemnestra's father had hurt Perpetua, she was greatly loved by her mother, who had raised her the Valkyrie way, even on the farthest edges of the realms.

Sorna grabbed her sister's hand and squeezed, still joyed at her return. She hoped Chimaeria and Clytemnestra would become like sisters as well, since it was unlikely they would ever receive siblings.

"The sun will set soon," Sorna commented as the sisters walked to the caves, where fires were being lit in preparation for nightfall.

"Hmm," Perpetua hummed in agreement, inhaling the scent of fish roasting on the cook fires. "Tonight will be a clear night. Mayhap we will be able to spot Asgard when the Bifrost lights?"

Sorna laughed, "Ah, yes. Odin is no doubt incensed by Heimdall's refusal to reveal our hiding places. Unfortunate that his irreplaceable bridge guard has a Valkyrie half-sister."

Perpetua snorted. "Odin probably lies awake at night, muttering to himself over the frustration of having someone who knows where everyone in the universe is, but being unable to convince him to share."

"Thank the goddesses for Myope's mother taking a liking to an Asgardian," Sorna chuckled.

The two Valkyrie settled among their sisters, the small family group consisting of only twenty women, all Valkyros by name and blood. They were all direct descendants of Brynhildr Brightstar, the main sect of the Empyrea coven.

Sorna looked at her sisters, laughing amongst themselves as they ate. They may have left their Stronghold, but their sisterhood remained strong. The Edict had taken nothing from them but the fortress they had once called home.

Later in the night, the Edict would take their lives.

* * *

The festival was winding to a close when the villagers caught sight of the shooting star. "An omen of good fortune," the old women tittered. "An omen of marriage," the men said, eyeing the woman who walked among them, but was not of them. "An omen of ill will," Chimaeria said warily, watching as the star fell to the beach where her family lived.

The night had been filled with good food and dancing, music livening the people's feet as they celebrated the full, orange moon, hanging pregnant in the clear sky. Chimaeria had danced among the mortals, losing herself to the thumping beat as she was passed from person to person, until their happy faces blurred together.

She loved her times among the Midgardians, enjoying their pleasures found in each day. Her own people thought in terms of centuries rather than seconds, leeching the joy in small things from their lives. To get a tiny taste of human life was captivating for Chimaeria.

Her mind turned from the star as soon as the final song started up and a young man grabbed her hands, spinning her with a laugh. Platinum braids swung in a wide arc, metal beads glinting in the firelight. The sound and rhythm of the mortals consumed her attention, the golden whorls imprinted in her skin spinning dizzyingly in complicated patterns.

The mortals watched her in awe. They believed she was a goddess, sent to be their patron and protector. To the Midgardians, all of the women were like goddesses, but Chimaeria was their brilliant treasure, the most beautiful woman they had ever imagined.

They offered her tributes of olives and fish, tanned animal hides and wooden carvings. She accepted them all happily, giving to the village in return by sharing her bountiful kills. Under her hands, the village had flourished. Also under her hands, many young villagers had learned of love. But she was not one to be tamed into marriage, much to many young men's chagrin.

The other Valkyries did not approve of how close she had become to the mortals, but they indulged her. Otherwise, she would be bothering them all day, which her sisters found intolerable. Chimaeria laughed at the thought, imagining her mother's loving but frustrated expression, and her cousin's impatient sighs.

"Chimaeria!"

She turned at the shrill scream, spying Clytemnestra at the edge of the village. Her cousin hated men so much she never came near the village, not understanding why Chimaeria was so drawn to them. Chimaeria watched in astonishment as her cousin spotted and then disappeared in a burst of shadow, only to reappear immediately at her side.

In the century the Valkyries had lived near the village, Clytemnestra had never entered. She had not come within a mile of the crude stone homes, avoiding the human men like the plague.

"Chimaeria," her cousin panted, eyes wild with fear. Blood was spattered on her left cheek, gold. Only Valkyries bled gold.

"What is it?" Chimaeria demanded, instantly on the alert. Her cousin's desperate fear sent adrenaline crashing through her veins.

"Asgardian mercenaries," she breathed, pointing toward the beach. "They surprised us!"

Chimaeria's heart stopped beating. Her mother had always warned her of how they were hunted, and they had had the occasional battle, all easily won. But it had never felt real until that moment, as her eyes fixed on the golden blood staining her cousin's cheek. She quickly realized Clytemnestra was not wounded herself; the blood was from a different Valkyrie.

"Go back!" she commanded. "Protect the Queen and Perpetua!"

Clytemnestra disappeared with another pop of shadow. Chimaeria knew she was fast on her feet, but she needed more than foot speed. She tore her chiton at just above mid-thigh, a rough imitation her battle armor. Then, she released her power.

Wings burst from her back, arcing over head to stretch to their full span of fourteen feet. Black feathers, edged in gold, spread widely as she crouched, and then launched herself into the air, her powerful leg muscles bunching and releasing. The village people exclaimed in awe and fright, having never seen her wings before, but Chimaeria ignored them, intent on reaching her people.

Her vision narrowed to pricks as she swooped over the mile between the village and the cliffs in a matter of seconds, her flight supernaturally fast. On the sandy beach beneath her, bursts of blue fire marked her mother as she battled five men, clad head to toe in armor. Each Valkyrie was surrounded by mercenaries brandishing weapons that glinted pale in the moonlight. _Silver_ , she realized. The only metal that would cut impervious Valkyrie skin.

Folding her massive wings tightly, Chimaeria arrowed to the ground at incredible speed, her approach heralded by a shrill whistle as her form rent the clear night sky. She dropped to the sand in a crouch that sent geysers of sand erupting into the air at the force of her landing. Without a thought, she stood and unlimbered the dagger strapped to her thigh, slinging it at the Asgardian raising a sword over her mother's back.

Sorna gutted the man before her as the man behind her crumbled, gurgling as the dagger in his neck severed his jugular. "Chimaeria!" she screamed, eyes blown wide in unfamiliar terror once they caught her daughter, unarmed and naked of her armor in the middle of a battle. "Leave!"

"No!" Chimaeria yelled, ducking as a man swung a mace at her skull. She swept her leg at his ankles, felling him in the loose sand. A carefully controlled burst of hellfire incinerated him before he could even utter a curse.

She began to carve a wide path of destruction through the mercenaries using her hellfire, snarling at the brutish men. However, she couldn't unleash herself to destroy all the men in one fell blow. Her sisters had each been surrounded, keeping them in the path of any hellfire that would incinerate their attackers. She recalled her wings into her body, minimizing the chances a man could catch her by one, revolted at the thought of an Asgardian touching the feathers.

Hellfire was an excellent way to painfully slaughter each despicable mercenary, but there was no way to control the flames well enough to only target some people in a large, shifting battle. Her power had limitations; it was only useful for wholesale destruction. She would not be able to use her fire to help her sisters as they fell around her, defeated by strange weapons she had never seen before.

Vomit rose in her throat when she heard the wet squelch and then the scream of one of her sisters. The men all laughed, bolstered by the death of one of her own.

Caught by surprise without their obsidian dragon armor, and in many cases caught without a blade, her sisters were killed one by one. Chimaeria screamed as each body hit the soft sand, staining the beach with golden blood. She cut a furious swathe through the warriors, but even as she burned one, five more took his place before she could heave a breath.

The group of twenty Valkyries, the most feared bloodline of Brynhildr Brightstar Valkyros, was cut down until only Chimaeria, Sorna, Perpetua, and Clytemnestra remained, the most powerful of their family line and coven.

Chimaeria blasted the men surrounding her with hellfire, their dusted remains dispersed by the sea breeze, but more mercenaries gathered around her. The stream of Asgardians was never-ending. Odin must have sent an entire army to the beach to dispatch his hated enemies.

"Use the nets!" one mercenary called out.

One man in front of them reached for his belt and pulled a silvery web from its loop, his hands protected by thick gloves. Grinning, he cast it over Perpetua.

Her aunt began to scream in rage as the razor wires of silver cut her skin. Another man with gloves reached forward to grab the other end of the net, pulling her to the ground as her flesh was scored deeply. Ichor splattered the sand in wide arcs as she struggled.

"Mother!" Clytemnestra shouted. Her violet eyes were filled with horror.

Perpetua hissed and writhed, uncaring as the sharp wire sliced her skin. "Clytemnestra! You and Chimaeria need to leave!"

"Mother!" Clytemnestra screamed, ignoring her mother's demands. She tried to fight her way toward Perpetue, teleporting in sharp pops around the Asgardians. The caught on quickly to her power and began to swing their blades wildly, hoping to catch her on accident.

Right as Clytemnestra appeared beside her mother, a blade swung randomly by a man caught her thigh, slicing it open to the bone. She roared in pain and stabbed her sword into his gut, between the chinks of his armor. He dropped and she stumbled, gold flowing from the deep wound.

"Clytemnestra!" Perpetua shrieked, hardly contained by the five men wrestling her net to the beach. She raised her hand, causing the wind to swirl around her assailants, casting sand into their faces. It barely deterred them from their grim task despite the stinging onslaught. Odin had not sent average soldiers after them; these men were well-trained and armed. Never before had silver nets been used against the Valkyries.

Clytemnestra shrouded her mother in shadow, but even then the mercenaries continued to haul the famed Valkyrie down, until finally Perpetua dropped to her knees, deep slices leaking ichor. She looked at her niece and sister struggling, surrounded by enemies armed with silver blades. There were scores of men ready to leap into the fray, gesturing with their silver nets.

Perpetua locked violet gazes with her daughter. "Protect her," she whispered, but she knew her daughter would hear. "She is the last Valkyros. You are as sisters." The falling sword hit her neck, and Perpetua Inferna Valkyros's final words were directed to her only daughter: "I love you."

Sorna screamed as her sister fell, silver nets cast wide over her head. The Queen watched her beloved sister's head tumble to the sand, the trunk of her body collapsing forward. She looked around, from her wounded niece Clytemnestra to her wrathful daughter Chimaeria. Silver blades bristled like a forest of needles around them, closing in with every breath. There was only one last thing she could do, and that was to make a decision no mother would ever want to force on their child.

"Clytemnestra!" she called. "Don't argue, just go as far as you can! Now!"

In shock from watching her mother's execution, Sorna's niece did as she was told, disappearing with a burst of shadow. One Valkyrie removed from the bloodshed, Sorna turned to her daughter.

Even without access to a weapon, Chimaeria was fearsome to behold. Her body was wreathed in black and gold flame, utterly destroying anything that came into contact with it, including the silver blades and nets the mercenaries tried to use to subdue her. However, Sorna knew her daughter would not unleash her power with her here; it would kill Sorna as easily as it would kill the Asgardians. Sorna knew this, and still she screamed for her daughter's attention.

"Chimaeria! Unleash yourself! Kill them!"

"Hellfire will kill you too!" Chimaeria rebutted. She spun and laughed maniacally as she turned the men surrounding her to ash. However, the women were contained in such a way that the only way Chimaeria could kill them all would be to send her hellfire outward in every direction. Once hellfire was unleashed, it would jump from target to target, wreaking absolute destruction until there was no more to burn or its master recalled it.

"It's the only way!"

Chimaeria looked around her, and realized she was right. Asgardian men pulled the nets holding her mother, and Sorna collapsed to the sand. Her violet eyes held her daughter's golden ones, asking for one final gift. Chimaeria nodded, her head stiff. She understood what her mother wanted.

"None of you shall ever take the life of the Valkyros!" Chimaeria declared. "Her life belongs to the goddesses and her people!" She looked around, sickened by the grins of amusement and bloodlust on the men's faces. This is what Odin wanted? To kill all the Valkyries, sister by sister, with these leering monsters of men? Hatred burned hotter than ever before in Chimaeria, stoking her inner flame into a consuming blaze.

Sorna and her treasured daughter locked eyes, just as Perpetua and Clytemnestra had. "Always know my love for you," Sorna said. "Always remember our people are out there, waiting for you to save them. Always remember our words."

"By Blaze and Blade, by Sword and Strength, by Flame and Fortune!" Chimaeria screamed. She held her mother's gaze, Queen Sorna's face filled with pride. Then Chimaeria unleashed the hellfire filling her veins.

Black flames limned in gold raced outward with an explosion of concussive sound, instantly incinerating everything in its path. The sand not drifting like ash on the wind had turned to black glass, surrounding Chimaeria in all directions in smooth, unbroken panes. The hellfire extinguished once everything had been destroyed, the only evidence of its existence floating on a cool sea breeze.

Queen Sorna had been included in the blast. Nothing remained of Chimaeria's mother, killed by her daughter's own hellfire. It was her last request of her daughter: to die by hellfire rather than to die at the sword of a tyrant's mercenary. Chimaeria could not even tell which ashes belonged to her sisters' bodies or to her mother.

The last Valkyrie saw nothing but carnage all around her still form. An orange moon shone balefully on the hellscape she had created. The dangerous instability in her mind cracked and shattered, sending her over the edge into the endless abyss of insanity.

Chimaeria Synsara Valkyros Kallistos sank to her knees and screamed in agony, surrounded by the ashes of her kin.

* * *

 **8,894 Years Ago. Africa. Midgard.**

Across the sea and hundreds of miles of desert, plains, and jungle, Myope Stratia Astero clutched her head and sank to her knees. Her sisters rushed to her side and tried to soothe her, but she shook her head in anguish, eyes clenched tightly shut. "No, no, no," she repeated to herself, tears streaming over her cheeks. Her sisters exchanged glances; Myope the Silent wept even less than she spoke.

"What is it, mother?" a girl asked, appearing to be around twelve years old. She was actually nearing her three hundredth year, but Valkyrie aged slowly.

Myope shook silently, not answering her treasured daughter's question. Night was deep in the jungle village Myope's family had settled, the stars concealed by canopies far overhead. But all the creatures of the night had ceased their incessant noises, fallen still when Myope had sunk to her knees.

Long moments passed as Myope rocked and shook her head, sobs catching in her chest. Finally, she raised her face to beseech the hidden stars. "Why?" she questioned mournfully, the word uttered as a long wail. The stars did not answer.

"Mother?" her daughter, Aja, asked again. "Are you alright?" Small, brown hands wiped her mother's cheeks, cleansing the tears.

Myope continued to wail incoherently, invoking the goddesses to be merciful over and over. Eventually, the rocking slowed, and Myope the Silent slowly regained her composure. Her eyes were swollen, her lips bleeding golden ichor where she had bitten through them. Aja had never seen her mother so rattled and distraught.

"Queen Sorna is dead," she intoned. "By Blaze and Blade, by Sword and Strength, by Flame and Fortune. May she be welcomed by the goddesses."

The gathered Valkyrie all began to mourn, but Myope remained silent, the images of her vision seared into her brain.

"Queen Sorna is dead," she repeated woodenly, speaking over the mourning. "Long live Queen Chimaeria Synsara Valkyros Kallistos."

"Long live Queen Chimaeria!" her sisters repeated after her. "Long live the Valkyros!"


	5. Chapter 5

**3,000 Years Ago. The Royal Palace. Asgard.**

Loki and Thor had been playing hide and seek behind the numerous tapestries of the Great Hall when their father had swept past, uncharacteristically solemn and unbothered by servants or messengers. Exchanging glances, the two boys had quickly fallen into familiar habits. Loki used his weak, but effective illusion magic to clumsily hide the both of them, and Thor had led the way, following their father at a slight distance. Usually, he noticed them, but he was too distracted to sense the young boys trailing on his heels.

To their confusion, they followed him all the way down into the lowest levels of the dungeons, reserved for only the most heinous criminals. They hid their fear, but their eyes were wide as they surveyed the dank cells and heard the long moans of forgotten prisoners. The brothers knew they were most certainly not allowed to venture into the dungeons, and especially not the furthest reaches they had now entered.

Finally, their father approached a cell, bare and damp in the low-lit gloom. His back was to the young brothers, who were concealed in a spot of deep shadow beyond a turn in the hall. They could not see around the king's bulk into the cell.

"Ashara," Odin greeted warmly, belying the bone-deep chill and pervasive damp. "You are a prophetess, like your elder cousin Myope, correct?"

The boys heard a deep retch and then a splat. Odin sighed. "I should have known better than to expect manners from one of your kind."

The prisoner remained silent, but the brothers could sense the roiling hatred the prisoner exuded.

"You will die, regardless of your obstinacy, alone and forgotten inside an Asgardian cell," Odin said genially. "Your sisters will mourn your passing, I am sure. But they will soon move on, for they are a cold and compassionless species. Your life will be counted as a necessary loss to preserve the ridiculous hope your sisters nurture of a savior, come to rescue them from the filth they have finally recognized as their origin and end."

The prisoner laughed, a young sound despite its mocking edge. "You are an old fool," the prisoner murmured. Loki and Thor tensed in surprise. The prisoner was a girl!

"How is that?" Odin inquired patiently. He had the confidence of a predator watching its prey spasm in its final death throws.

"I came here willingly."

Odin shifted his feet, the most surprise his sons had ever seen him reveal. "Is that so?"

"Oh, yes," the girl replied darkly. Sounds echoed off stone, as if the girl had pressed closed to the bars of her cell. "I come with a message for you, King of Asgard."

"Speak, then," Odin ordered.

A long, shuddering breath followed the king's command. Pressure filled the cell and its surroundings, causing the amateur spies to swallow reflexively.

"The last Valkyros will be equaled only by the silver mate, found by force where glass pierces the heavens. They will clash and conquer and rise, for only their combined strength can face what comes to claim her. Four bloodlines, two of frost and magic, two of fire and chaos, intertwine to create silver and gold, monstrous and powerful, the downfall of all and the beginning of the dawn." The girl gasped as the words were drawn from deep within her, deep heaving breaths.

Odin was deathly silent as she began to laugh. "Do you see now?" she asked breathlessly. "Even you do not doubt the truth of prophecy, lying king."

Their father stepped forward and his arm moved out of sight. The boys heard a choked off laugh and then panicked clicking, like her teeth were chattering. They dared not look at each other and voice their suspicions, not wanting to believe that their father was saying and doing such things.

After a few eternal minutes, the choking tapered out. Odin did not move for several minutes more, his arm still outstretched. Then, he stepped back, arm returning to his side. The boys heard a thump, as if something had fallen.

Odin turned from the prison and grabbed a sconce off the wall. He threw the torch through the gap in the cell bars. The boys could see shadows thrown against the wet stones as the fire caught on dirty fabric and began to burn more brightly.

The girl in the cell was so young. Only twelve or thirteen, by the looks of her rounded face and long limbs. Her black eyes were open, gazing directly at them. A faint smile curved her lips.

Odin stayed as the body burned. The boys remained long after he had gone and the girl had become a pile of charred bone.

They looked to each other, eyes wide and gleaming in the gloom. They never spoke of what they had seen, but they both remembered.

* * *

 **2018 AD. South Korea. Midgard.**

Syn hummed lightheartedly, strolling gracefully along the top walkway of the highly exclusive South Korean club. Powerful people from all over the world were gathered to bid on rare and precious artifacts. She recognized a few famous movie stars, as well as a Russian politician there on behalf of his president, and a few royals of several different countries. She considered decimating them all, but discarded the idea just as quickly. While unbothered at the notion of extreme violence, she wasn't in the mood to deal with getting ashes in her hair again. Also, hellfire would incinerate the very thing she was there to acquire.

Vibranium.

According to the black market, Klaue, an unhinged high-dollar thief, had gotten his hands on a good sized hunk of the precious metal. Syn wanted it. The thought of two vibranium swords made her mouth water. While the dwarf-forged swords she had hidden outside were some of her most precious possessions, a vibranium sword was not an advantage to simply pass by. No, Syn had every intention of getting her claws on that hunk of metal, and she would gleefully kill anyone she needed to in order to obtain it.

However, she couldn't help but be excited to watch the bidding war between all of the influential mortals. They were all so puny, yet believed they were so powerful. It warmed her cold heart. She had another hour or two to wait, though.

She sighed and leant her forearms on the rail, perusing the crowd in search of entertainment in the meantime, shifting the folds of her skirt to display one long, pale leg. Her black dress clung to her curves, held up by thin straps. She had forgone shoes; she hated the invention of high heels and refused to touch them. Thankfully, she was tall enough to give them impression of heels, so long as her dress trailed on the floor. She ignored the leers of the predominately male club, used to garnering lustful stares. In a past lifetime, thousands of years ago, she had gone by the name Helen.

The top of a grey head caught her eye and she grinned. Not even noticing the men who tried to stop her passage for a moment to speak to her, Syn descended the stairs and strolled over to her target.

"Agent Ross," Syn purred in greeting, tapping a black claw on the varnished wood of the gambling table beside him.

CIA Agent Everett Ross glanced to his side at the tall platinum blonde, her golden eyes narrowed wickedly. Once he recognized her face, he whirled around to face her. Syn was towering at 5'11 ft., making the agent feel quite diminutive.

"Jesus fuck," the unflappable Agent Ross cursed before regaining control of himself.

The woman before him was infamous among the highest echelons of the United States government, specifically SHIELD before it had imploded spectacularly. In fact, Agent Ross was pretty sure the Avengers were supposed to be keeping an eye out for her the next time she resurfaced. She was referred to as Subject 0001. In other terms, she was the most important person—or being—on the government's unknown beings list. She was to be either recruited or executed, but unprepared agents were ordered to not engage. Subject 0001 had incapacitated too many special ops teams to be treated lightly.

"Is that how people say hello in America these days?" the woman asked. "It has been a while since I was there—not since the 80s, I think? I lose track. There's a lot in here," she grinned, tapping one black claw to her temple.

"You surprised me," Ross corrected. How could he twist this unexpected encounter to his benefit? Information on Subject 0001 was invaluable to any modern government.

The woman hummed a tune as she stared at him intently. "You're here for the vibranium, I'm guessing?"

Ross glared, realizing he had a new obstacle to add to the Wakandan royals that had just entered the room. "Yes, and I intend to have it, thank you kindly."

"Unfortunate," the woman said, sounding glum, face falling. "You really believe that." She brightened considerably, "But what if, instead of you or those nosy royals sniffing around over there, _I_ took the vibranium, _and_ those diamonds in your briefcase that the cute secretary has?"

Ross already hated her. And just to make his day even better, King T'Challa chose that moment to approach him also.

"Ross," the King greeted politely, and then looked to the woman to introduce himself. King T'Challa's body froze, before his eyes narrowed to a glare and he exclaimed, " _You!_ "

"Me?" the woman laughed. "I must be popular. Do all the boy's clubs talk about me?"

"This creature is a menace," The King of Wakanda baldly stated to Agent Ross, glaring resolutely as she grinned.

"You're just mad I scratched behind your ears that one time," she purred. "That little cat suit was just too cute. I couldn't help myself."

T'Challa's glare narrowed even further. Ross nearly choked. He did not remember the Black Panther suit as _cute_.

"I know the ladies were just about to join the fun," she said, listening as a woman approached from behind. "But I think the parties about to start. The man of the hour just arrived!" She slid out of Okoye's grasp just as the King's protector reached out to grab her. "No touching," the blonde woman said, waving a finger in front of the angry warrior's face. "No matter how cute you are!"

As Okoye sputtered in rage and made to grab her weapon, the woman pointed behind her. "Now, she's good looking. You can call me anytime, hot stuff," she said, blowing a kiss to a stunned Nakia.

T'Challa's glare became even fiercer as the woman strolled away toward the grizzled Klaue. "I hate her almost more than I hate Klaue," the King admitted to Ross.

"You know her?" Ross asked in surprise.

"No one knows her," Okoye interjected. "Everyone only knows _of_ her."

"A good way to put it," T'Challa agreed, still glaring impotently as the woman began to speak to Klaue. "She has gone by many names, but her face remains the same. Wakanda first encountered her thousands of years ago, calling her the she-demon."

"What are some of her names?" Ross asked, taking mental notes for a report. "Do you know how old she is?"

"We know only that she was not born on this planet, and that when she met my people, she went by the same Kali. Since then, she has introduced herself as Sora and as Maeria, but that was several centuries ago. She appears every so often to cause trouble."

"Like Kali? The Hindu goddess of death, sex, and violence?" Ross questioned disbelievingly.

Okoye and T'Challa exchanged wry glances. "That is fitting," the King said. "She has habits concerning all of those things."

"And you've never captured her?" Ross asked.

"We have tried," T'Challa admitted, "but we have never succeeded. She thrives on chaos. I think she only interacts with people to annoy them, then she disappears for decades or centuries. She is an odd, ancient being."

Ross looked at Subject 0001. She turned and caught his eye, then winked. "Can she hear us?" he asked the Wakandans out of the side of his mouth. The woman wriggled her fingers at him teasingly.

"Most likely," T'Challa shrugged, glaring when she winked at him also. "She has many mysterious talents."

Ross sighed. He hadn't wanted to go higher up, but Subject 0001 was an anomaly. He pressed a button on his phone. Once the red emergency screen blinked to life, he typed in the category code: Apocalypse. The Avengers would arrive on scene half an hour from the onset signal of that particular code. Ross just had to keep her there until the big guns arrived.

He and the Wakandans watched intently as she flirted with Klaue. "She is crazy enough to get along with him," T'Challa added, watching the woman like he would a venomous snake.

"Like, crazy, crazy?" Ross asked, spinning a finger outside his temple.

"She is clinically insane," Okoye answered. "And totally unpredictable."

The woman flashed them a grin and a thumbs up. Ross eyed the black claw tip on her thumb skeptically. "Those are real, aren't they?"

"And sharp," T'Challa responded.

"I hate all of this crap," Ross muttered, looking to the heavens for aid. "Mutants, gods, childish geniuses—I hate all of it."

King T'Challa grinned in agreement, ignoring the sharp glances of his companions. "Even your Avengers?"

Ross thought of Tony Stark and his most recent stunt: launching an unregistered and unapproved beacon into space in an attempt to locate Bruce Banner. The beacon had attracted many unsavory characters, none of which were Dr. Banner. "Especially them," he muttered.

"Is that-?" Okoye interrupted, grabbing the king's arm. The group watched in dismay as Klaue handed the grinning woman a paper-wrapped package.

"The vibranium," T'Challa confirmed, growing serious. "Things just became very complicated."


End file.
